


You Don't Always Have To Be On Top

by rextexx



Series: Loving you is really hard [6]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frustration, M/M, Sad Robbo, Self Confidence Issues, Supportive Sportacus (LazyTown)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 14:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rextexx/pseuds/rextexx
Summary: 'For what it's worth,' Sportacus said as he watched Robbie nearly throwing his lifework away. 'I think you are a great villain.'





	You Don't Always Have To Be On Top

**Author's Note:**

> First things first - I'm not a fan of vent fanfics. I don't particularly like people labelling Robbie as "depressed" or "riddled with self-loathing anxiety". Call me an insensitive asshat, but yeah, I just don't see it. Nevertheless I've been going through some stuff that I think even Robbie could relate to. Ain't I a hypocrite.
> 
> Also, I have a second degree burn on both of my hands so I'm extra upsetti. So here have this. Hope you like it anyway :D

 

There was something immensely peculiar going on behind the billboard. Sportacus had been jogging with the children, and circling around the same group of rocks for the third time now, just to cast a quick glance at the lair at the end of town. There was a lot of noise going on. Alot. Louder than someone like Robbie would ever allow near his home.  
  
“I think Robbie is renovating.” Stephanie said, she too had started observing the billboard from a safe distance.  
  
“Renovating? He?” Pixel arched a brow. “He's way too lazy to renovate on his own.”  
  
“Maybe he hired someone to clean up his lair?”  
  
“Robbie doesn't like strangers in his home.” Stingy pointed out.  
  
“And that's usually the time when he has his naps.” Trixie added.  
  
“Sportacus, you should check what's going on inside there.” Ziggy suggested. “Maybe he's in trouble.”  
  
“Don't worry, Ziggy, Robbie's not in any current trouble. My crystal is completely calm – “  
  
The moment he said that, there was a strange, heavy, very heavy weight that pressed onto his chest. The crystal was alert. Not bleeping or blinking; Though it felt as if someone had put a large boulder on top of his ribcage, it momentarily robbed the superhero of any breath.  
  
He realized, there was something wrong. Just, what was it?  
  
If anyone was in trouble, he would notice it at once. So, what was this strange, strangling feeling he felt? The children actually jogged past him as Sportacus momentarily felt too heavy to move a muscle.  
  
The kids were way too busy discussing what they would do once school would start again to notice they were passing and kept moving without their superhero. Sportacus frowned. This was strange. Loud noises from inside the billboard. His crystal giving signals whenever he looked over to Robbie's house. He noticed there were strange objects scattered all around the hatch and chute.  
  
What was the town's villain up to this time? He did stay inside there for the last two weeks, which he usually only did whenever he was working on a phenomenal master plan. One that would take longer than an average of four hours plus sleeping.  
Sportacus made a mental note to check on him once he had finished his jogs.  
  
About an hour later, the children were going off to play a few videogames at Pixels house and Sportacus was off duty, for now. Remembering that first thing he'd do once he was done was to check on Robbie, he made his way down the gritty path to Robbie's home. There was still a commotion going on behind that billboard, and Sportacus once again felt that weird heavy feeling in his chest. Gulping past that lump in his throat, he walked around the corner to see -  
  
Piles of machines, metal scraps, half-finished and finished inventions heedlessly thrown out of the chute and onto the metallic platform. Some of these Sportacus could remember from former encounters. A huge canon. Several metal cages. Odd vials in different shapes, strapped onto a constructions for whatever chemical substances Robbie was brewing downstairs. And...  
  
Was that the same robot Robbie had send into the dance competition? She laid on top of a box, mangled, and looking very dusted, abandoned – and displeased by whatever was going on here.  
  
“Hey, hello there - Is Robbie there?” He asked the ballerina. She didn't answer. The large wind-up key on her back was missing. Furrowing his brows, Sportacus moved over to the open hatch, and looked inside. He saw Robbie, elbow deep in boxes.  
Sportacus slipped down the chute and landed with a soft thud behind the villain. Robbie didn't seem to notice him, too busy searching for whatever he was looking for.  
  
“Hi Robbie.”  
  
Robbie jumped at least three feet in the air and wheeled around, a hand on his erratic drumming chest, eyes wide.  
  
“S-Sportasneak!!” He gasped, trying his hardest to calm his heart. “Don't. Do. That. Ever again.”  
“Sorry, Robbie.” Sportacus apologized, and placed his fists into his sides. “What are you up to?”  
  
Once the question was asked, Robbie's face instantly changed. Cold. Very cold. He moved around again and started digging through tools.  
  
“Sorting out.” He said. He said it in a strange voice. Not a usually annoyed voice, not a mocking voice, not that shy and flustered voice, not even angry. If he could name it, it sounded – stressed. Something that was so uncommon for the man who was born to be lazy.  
  
“Sorting out, huh?” Sportacus echoed, and looked around. The lair was practically empty. Almost everything Robbie possessed in this already way too large and empty lair was gone, thrown out of the chute. Everything besides the platform with the four yellow tinted glass chambers, and that same orange, fuzzy chair in the center.  
  
“Can I help you somehow?”  
“No.” Robbie answered shortly. “In fact. I think you should be going again. This is not the place and time for a sports lunatic like you.”  
  
“But I just arrived.” Sportacus tried peeking over Robbie's shoulder. “What are you looking for?”  
  
_“Gah!!”_ Robbie jumped again, and nearly smacked a wrench into the elf's face.“Didn't I tell you not to sneak up on me!?”  
  
“Sorry, Sorry.” Sportacus blinked out the blur out of his eyes at his near metal-to-skull experience. “I'm just wondering, what exactly are you sorting out? It looks more like you're sorting out _everything._ ” He looked up the open chute to the piles of metal.  
  
“...And?” Robbie sounded caught.  
“Well, uhm, It looks like you are – are you renovating your lair?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Moving out?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Hm.” Sportacus rubbed his chin, trying to think of another reason why Robbie was literally throwing out the entire content of his home out the window. The villain finally pulled his hand outside the box, tossed it aside, and grabbed the next one.  
  
“Oh, I get it! You're looking for the remote, yes?”  
  
Robbie stopped, and turned around, giving him the most bewildered look he could muster.  
“ _Excuse me_?” he muttered.  
  
“The remote! You know, for the TV. Pixel said that's the item that goes missing the most in a household. Did you loose it too? I could help finding it.”  
Robbie stared back at the man for several moments. Then he turned again, growling angrily. “Sportacus, get out of my lair.” He said, firmly. “I don't need your petty help!”  
  
“Are you sure –”  
“Yes I'm sure Sportaflop. Now, there's the door.” He points at the chute without looking. “Goodbye, cheerio, auf wiedersehen.”  
“But – ”  
  
Robbie dropped the box he held so loudly, the sound of nails clanking against each other made Sportacus jump. “You are not making this easier, Sportadork!!” He yelled, and his voice echoed even more through every wall.  
There it was again, that suffocating, heavy pressure on Sportacus' chest. There was something wrong here. Very wrong.  
  
He knew Robbie wanted him to leave, but he couldn't as long as his crystal was continuing to send him signals of distress. The reason was simple – In various times where Robbie had been in trouble, had been hurt or in a dangerous situation, the crystal would not blink and bleep. For it knew when Robbie did not want any help.  
  
He was the only person in this town that got ignored by his ever so trusty alarm for his aid, and though Sportacus always wanted to help, and tried very often to convince the villain to just yell for him and he would come to save him, he refused. This time, however, Sportacus could feel that Robbie needed his help. He said he didn't. But inside, he very much did. He couldn't ignore this silent cry for attention.  
  
“Robbie. I will leave immediately if you wish, but. I think we both know something's not right.” He coaxed softly. “Maybe I can help?”  
  
It worked like a charm. Robbie's shoulder's slumped, a heavy sigh escaping his chest. Then he pointed at the armchair. “If you really need to know - Grab that and open it on page twenty seven.” he said.  
  
Sportacus blinked, and approached the armchair. He noticed a stack of magazine resting on the chair, and the hero picked up the one that was already opened and lying upside down on the chair. He stared at the cover. It was that strange magazine made exclusively for the most important villains on this earth, Robbie read a lot of these. Sportacus once had received an issue that was falsely addressed to his airship instead of Robbie's billboard. Most of it didn't make sense to Sportacus, since he was not a villain. He opened the journal and browsed to page twenty-one.  
  
A picture of Robbie was there, looking smug, holding his chin with his index and thumb.“Hey, they made an entire page for you, Robbie.” Sportacus beamed.  
“Read the title, Sportadumb!!” Robbie hissed.  
Sportacus obliged and looked at the large yellow-lettered header.

_'Robbie not so Rotten anymore? Number one Villain in trouble!'_

  
  
Sportacus blinked surprised. So Robbie _was_ in trouble! And apparently the entire villain world knew about it, except for him. Well, then again, he wasn't part of the felonious community. He continued to read the text below.

 _“Grey eyes, stripes clothes, magnificent jetblack hair and that uncanny pompadour - Robbie Rotten, Villain number one in nearly hundred fifty countries, is known by many. His villainous actions are known throughout the entire world, his genius mind rocks the villain-community and his handsomeness leaves many fans swooning. There is no doubt that Robbie Rotten, residing in Lazytown, is famous for his glorious attempts of defeating a superhero that has claimed his city as his own and worldwide aspiring villains are looking up to this handsome devil in striped pants. After all, we are talking about an apprentice of the ever so legendary Glanni Glaepur, at his time known as the most gruesome and extraordinary villain that ever lived._  
  
_But now the greatest villain is in acute danger of loosing his title forever. We are asking, dear Mister Rotten – when will you create the next great invention? Where is your spirit? Where has your love for being big and being bad gone?_  
_For about a month now, the nefarious actions of Rotten has come to a screeching halt – in term of quality at least. Being known as the man who was able to build a life-sized ballet dancing doll, inventor of the disguise machine, and his marvelous plan of using three doppelganger to help him out in his quest to defeat the 'pesky blue kangaroo', we do wonder why there aren't any new great coups following._  
  
_And yes, it should matter to Mister Rotten – There is a new villain in the spotlight, which draws in most of Rotten's admirers. His name? El Chacho. Level of experience? Enough to compete with today's top-villains. Level of danger? Skyscraper-high.”_

  
  
Sportacus stared of a photo of a chihuahua in a sombrero, and a knife between its tiny fangs.

_“El Chacho, an aspiring new, young and motivated villain, has managed to put the entire villain world upside down. His first coup done when he was mere two hours old, El Chacho has proven himself to be a villain extraordinaire, maybe even the next criminal mastermind of our century. ( For a list of El Chacho's villainy career, refer to page thirty nine)_

  
  
Sportacus lowered the magazine and frowned sourly. “That's pretty rude stuff they typed about you there.” He said.  
  
“You think I care about rudeness, Sportaclown? I'm loosing my reputation to a dog! _A dog!!_ ”  
  
Whatever Robbie had in his hand, he just threw across the room and it landed with a loud 'clank' on the other side of the lair.  
  
“I am villain number one for over twenty years now! I have put blood, sweat and tears into this work, every single invention and masterplan took me hours, _hours_ to finish! I gave up several naps and snack times for this! Sleep-deprived nights! Missed TV specials! And for what? For nothing! For a little mexican trembling rat to take it all away! You know what his oh so great first cue was? Stealing his owners engagement ring! At that age I would have already kicked ten superheroes out of town!”  
  
Robbie's caged rage broke free from him so suddenly, that Sportacus could feel his crystal weighting down on top of his chest like the foot of an elephant. It was obvious that Robbie was in immense amount of emotional distress about this deal. Robbie turned again and started roaming through his boxes.  
  
Sportacus bit his lip. “Robbie – for what it's worth, I think you are a great villain! Better than El, uh... well, better than that new villain.”  
  
He hoped that would cheer the villain up, at least a little bit.  
It didn't.  
  
“No, I'm not.” Robbie growled. “At least, not anymore I suppose.”  
“But we think so! We all think so; Me, Stephanie, Trixie, Stingy, Pixel, Ziggy and – “  
  
“I don't care what _you_ and your fanclub think! I care what _they_ think!!” Robbie pointed at the magazine in Sportacus hand.  
  
Sportacus' frown deepened. Hearing that their opinion over their towns villain was obsolete to Robbie's ears was pretty hurtful, but seeing Robbie getting riled up about the words of a villainy journal -A bad and obviously exorbitant one on top – was even harder to understand.  
  
“You care what a piece of paper clipped together says about you?”  
“This 'piece of paper clipped together' knows a good villain if they see one. You have no idea what a great villain must look like, you never even _encountered_ another villain before.”  
  
Robbie gave a frustrated sigh. “Whatever. I'm done with being a villain. Shall that pesky little pooch take my place.”  
“What? No.” Sportacus made a step towards him. “Please don't just give up now.”  
“Yes. I will. Not even you can change my mind, Sportaflop.”  
  
Robbie had stopped looking through the boxes, staring off angrily into the distance of his lair. “I have wasted my time in this town anyway. None of my scheme ever work. You just...you just flip over it, or the brats just outwit me, tear my disguises down – its all worth nothing. Absolutely nothing.”  
  
This stung in Sportacus' heart. Hearing Robbie, the man he always silently admired for his brilliant mind saying that his inventions were 'useless' was just beyond Sportacus' comprehension. He himself had never had a hand for crafting, imagining, and creating, not like Robbie could. Always focused on physical activity, seeing Robbie working and using whatever self-made disguise and build inventions brought a sense of pride and admiration to the hero's heart.  
  
Now hearing that Robbie didn't feel the same about his skills was...shattering to say the least.  
  
“That's not true, and you know that yourself.” Sportacus said softly.  
“I know exactly that it's true!” Robbie spat. “If it wasn't, I would get more, better attention than this on a daily base! I would succeed to impress, for once!” he snatched the magazine from Sportacus' hands and threw it on top of the pile of trash that gathered at the chute.  
  
“But Robbie – you can't just expect instant success. Do you think I started my training, expecting to be a superhero the next day? Or whenever I 'flip-flop' around as you phrase it, do you think I expect to get more muscles within an hour?”  
“This is – that's not – ! Ugh, you have no idea what this is about, Sportaloon.” Robbie rubbed his forehead. A long pause. Robbie felt his head drumming with an approaching headache.  
  
“I'm sick of this, Sportacus. I'm sick of trying it over and over again. I pour my very soul into my reputation. I work day and night on all this _junk_ ,” he flicked his wrist in the direction of his disguise machine. “I do my very best. I really do. And for what? For nothing. No appreciation. No success. Just... “ he picked up an empty soup can from the box. “Just _junk_.”  
  
Sportacus wished he could help Robbie. He wished it was just as easy as jumping up a tree to rescue him. He wished it was as easy as catching him when he falls off the billboard. He wished he could fix this with magic or an affectionate head-butt. But this was different.  
  
“Look, I'm busy here. So, if you'd please cartwheel out of here so I can finish up?”  
  
But Sportacus couldn't just leave. He couldn't just watch Robbie give up on everything he had worked on so hard for years.  
  
“Robbie.” he said. “Have you considered being a villain to make yourself, and not others happy?”  
  
Robbie cast him a glance that could cut through glass. “Have I _What_?” he growled.  
  
“I mean – I'm a superhero, because I love helping people. Doing sports with the kids makes me happy, and I found my purpose in this occupation.” The hero approached. “You started this all because you liked your job too, right? What you did, you loved to do. And maybe, over time, you somehow lost sight of that thought.”  
  
Robbie gnawed his teeth. He was right. He hated when that blue bouncing bean was right. Back then, he had been just Robbie, living in his lair, relaxing all day, happy with his life of endless laziness, and occasionally sending troublemakers out of town. Slipping on a simple disguise, a constructed invention, and off said newcomers would be.  
  
No new resident that was a potential danger to the tranquility and peace of Lazytown stayed longer than a day. Robbie loved his schemes, because they had worked, all the time. That's how his career had started, unknowingly, and unpredictably, despite his _'teacher's'_   completely different visions for his future.  
  
But one day this impossible hero came, and just put everything upside down. His lifestyle, the children, the general sound level in this hicksville, his efforts, actual hard worked efforts into each disguise and invention. None ever worked. But at the beginning, it didn't frustrate him – it edged him on. _Next time,_ he kept saying. _Next time I'll get him._  
  
That was two years ago. Nothing changed. He was still trying, and Sportacus was still there.  
And this was simply the icing on the cake.  
  
“I – But – what's the use doing something for yourself, when you can't have anybody else enjoying it too! All I ever did, it was for this town's sake! I would never just make a disguise out of the blue! It has no _purpose_ then! It would just sit in the closet and rot away. My work has no purpose without anybody else involved in it! How can I be a villain without being recognized by _others_?”  
  
Sportacus knew Robbie was secretly not so introvert and self-centered as he made himself appear. He did enjoy being around other people, and feeling accepted, and secretly, he surely enjoyed being with the children and being with Sportacus. Hearing this made Sportacus clear just how much Robbie was aching for someone else to love and appreciate him and his work, besides a lonely orange fluffy armchair and the TV screen.  
  
“Well. My job has even less purpose without anybody involved in it. What kind of hero would I be if I would have nobody to rescue? What kind of teacher would I be without my students? But you know – even if the children are all save for an entire day, or an entire week, I still love what I do, without feeling irrelevant. Nothing must have a purpose all the time.”

"N-Nothing must have a purpose all the time...?" Robbie repeated, voice thin, and stammering. He looked like this was the first time the villain ever heard about this option.  
  
Sportacus had expected Robbie to lash out again, yell, mock him. Anything Robbie-like. He had not expected to hear a soft, small sob coming from the villain. Robbie's dainty shoulder's jerked slightly with every tiny sound.  
  
“Robbie.” Sportacus gasped, and approached. “Are you crying?”  
“I'm – no.” Robbie rubbed at his face angrily with the back of his hand. “I've got something in my eye, is all.”  
“You'd like me to check –?”  
“No!”  
  
Robbie sniffled quickly, brushed off whatever wetness spilled from his tired eyes. “Ugh, why am I telling you this at all? You don't know what this is like, anyway– I just wanted to be someone great. Someone everyone knows. Just – _someone._ ”  
“Robbie, nobody's perfect. Not even me.”  
  
Robbie threw him a wary gaze.  
  
“It's true.” Sportacus defended himself. “I'm not so special either, you know. I'm not even a real superhero – I'm a slightly above average hero.”  
“That's still technically somebody important.” Robbie pouted.  
  
“You are important too, Robbie. You may not see it yourself, but I think you are very important. And the kids think you are important, too. I think, in fact, you are their most favorite villain.”  
“F-Fa--  Favorite villain?” Robbie stammered. He didn't even try to hide his astonishment over such an innocently sweet fact. “Really?”  
  
“Yes.” Sportacus grinned, and placed a hand on Robbie's upper arm, gently squeezing. “Could you imagine their faces if they learned their favorite villain would just stop being his old nefarious self?”  
Robbie pursed his lower lip and looked away, while Sportacus rubbed comforting circles into his arms.  
  
“A-And. You're sure they would notice?” Robbie asked. “If I stopped being a villain I mean.”  
“Robbie, the kid actually alerted me of your absence. Whenever you're not out there, they are the first one's to notice.”  
  
Robbie blinked. “Is that so.” He rubbed his chin and started pacing around the lair. “Is that so, yes...Well then, Sportaflop --”  
Robbie wheeled around, a finger in the air, a fist in his side and a gaze on is face that Sportacus knew all to well. “We should not let them wait! You think they have seen the last of me? Those brats and those _apes_ behind typewriters?”  
  
He grabbed the magazine from his chair and tore it apart. “You can shake a Rotten, but you can't break him! And especially, you cannot exchange him with a little trembling rat of a dog!” He swung his finger. “Sportakook, we have some work ahead of us! We are going to get all that junk back down here.”  
  
“I'll gladly help you, Robbie.” Sportacus smiled, and with a single jump, Sportacus bounced up and out of the chute. The two spend the entire afternoon putting Robbie's equipment back into place.  
  
The bookshelves with each book newly stacked, the laboratory was set back into place, and this time Robbie placed his life-sized ballerina doll on a chair, next to his own recliner, and together, they eve found her windup key. In the end, Robbie's lair has never looked so neat ad tidy – and so villainous.  
  
Green and purple goo gurgled in round vials, gears and cogs clattered and echoed through the lair, the light was dimmed just perfectly, a soft mist wavered along the floor and at the ceiling. “Now, if this wasn't the material for a glorious comeback!” Robbie patted the dust off his hands and propped them into his side, standing similar like the hero next to him. “Who knew your lair had such potential. Perhaps sorting out everything wasn't so bad after all.”  
  
“It certainly wasn't.” Robbie agreed. After a pause, Sportacus turned around. “Well, this was fun. We should try that with my airship sometimes.”  
Robbie flinched. “Up there? In that flying nutshell? Over my dead body.”  
  
Sportacus laughed. “We could call it down. It shouldn't be a problem." But Robbie shook his head. "I'll get the creeps by just looking at that thing. You should consult your brats on that."  
"Ah, maybe.  Either way - I'll get the other boxes for you, and then I'll be on my way again.”  
  
Robbie watched as Sportacus took a running jump up the hatch. He landed softly with both feet on the metallic platform right behind Robbie's billboard, and gathered the last few cartons of scrap metal to bring them down. He turned, in time to see Robbie had followed. The other way, up the chute opening another hatch a few feet away.  
  
“Those are the last few. I hope we didn't forget anything out here. If we did, just call for me.”  
  
Sportacus leaned down to hand Robbie the box. He nearly dropped it as Robbie suddenly craned his head and leaned into him, and suddenly, Sportacus felt his mouth covered with a strange, welcoming softness. It took the elf a few moments to realize he was being kissed. He had expected Robbie to throw him out, or with a magical turn of events, he might actually thank him verbally. But this was …  
  
Robbie drew away, as fast as he had approached. Snatched the box from Sportacus' hands, grabbed the handle of his hatch, and sputtered out a swift  
  
“Later, Sportakiss – I- I mean Sportacus,” before retreating back into his chute. “And – thank you. For today.” he finally muttered, and closed the hatch tightly.  
  
Sportacus stood there or a solid thirty seconds. Staring. His hand touched the spot on is lips that Robbie' had touched. “You're...welcome.” he muttered. “Yes. You're welcome! You are very welcome, Robbie!” Sportacus suddenly felt the weight from his crystal slip off of him. He felt the happiest he had ever felt, jumping in the air, making every unnecessary flip over sticks or stones.  
  
 “You're welcome, Robbie!” He called again as he sped off down the gritty path back to town.

 


End file.
